Intensity
by Delenn
Summary: NEW:8-7-03 No questions, no apologies, just us. Kissing my blood-streaked forehead tenderly, he chuckles, "It's not over, Maxie." And he's right, it's not, not even close because this is us and me and him and…Intensity.


**Disclaimer: Big shock, I don't own 'em! I'm just messing around, stealin' 'em, cause I can't even rent 'em! How sad is that? So if you still feel compelled to sue, well, you have to have like **no** life!   
  
Author's Notes: This is another Max POV, dunno where it takes place, A/M ficcy. Big freaking surprise, I know, seems I do a lot of those. Almost made this a joint POV between Max and Alec but it just didn't turn out that way. So yadda, yadda, yadda, there's violence and weird themes, but I think it's cool. Especially because I wrote it in a dark pink text on light pink background format with a curly font. Hehe, I'm crazy, I know. But anyway, be a sport and read it, okay? And then you can rant or rave to me in e-mail. Isn't that so much better/funner? You did already click the link and everything.   
  
Summary: No questions, no apologies, just us. Kissing my blood-streaked forehead tenderly, he chuckles, "It's not over, Maxie." And he's right, it's not, not even close because this is us and me and him and…Intensity.   
  
Rated: Hard R.   
  
Feedback: Love it? Hate it? Go on, you'll be my best friend! See, all you have to do is click the little link! goddess_delenn@yahoo.com   
  
Date Started/Finished: August 6th, 2003**   
  


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Intensity   
By ~Delenn~

  
  
  
  
_I can't breathe, oh, oh God, I can't breath,_ there's that internal voice that I shove down, behind the more primal instincts in me. The ones that allow me to roll away from the impending kick and force myself to breathe through the pain.   
  
So I get up, I breathe through it all and I deliver a spinning kick to _his_ midsection that is guaranteed to make him feel like I just did a moment before. "Bastard," I manage to hiss through tightly clenched teeth.   
  
Slowly but as surely as I had, he gets up, eyes gleaming. In a second we attack, fists flying in well-aimed punches, bodies trying to out maneuver each other. His fist connects with my mouth, hard, and I feel the sickening trickle of blood from my split lip. It seeps into my mouth, tasting like salt and pain. I spit the weakness of it out onto the hard cement ground I've just so recently gotten up from.   
  
In an instant retaliation I watch in pleased fascination as I punch him in the eye, hard, and it starts to swell and blacken immediately. There's a cut along his hairline, dripping blood down and over the same side of his face I've just so unceremoniously blackened.   
  
I don't think he's noticed and in the next second I know he hasn't for while I have been admiring the marks I've left on his body and planning for my next attack, he's found an open spot in my defenses. His fist strikes out, fast, hard, which I block. But before I can recover his knee has come up and nailed me square in the stomach, again knocking the wind out of me and knocking me down.   
  
Moving to roll over and out of the way of his next attack I find it impossible as he has pinned me with lightening speed. I can feel every inch of his rock hard body pressing me into the cement, bigger, heavier, but not stronger, not faster. Equal. Fuck, I'll give him equal.   
  
Bucking my whole body I attempt to throw him off but he stays right on top of me, using his position and my momentary weakness as the advantage he needs. There is blood everywhere, wet, tangy in my mouth, slippery between our bodies. I can see it spreading out in a dark mark over the cement I am pressed into. I can't even tell whose blood it is anymore. Probably both of ours mixing, becoming an entity all of its own.   
  
This time when I toss my legs up I tuck my head down pulling him down and over with me until we've reversed positions and I'm the one on top. I laugh at his smirking face and angry eyes. Not finished with you yet, I'm far from beat and you're far from beaten. No, not even close to being finished.   
  
His hands are intertwined with mine as though a lover might, but it's not a kind embrace, his grip is tight, attempting to crush my smaller fingers with his. I raise myself up until I am straddling him and eye our hands with a raised eyebrow. Amusing. Faster than anyone could have seen, I yank up, raising my arms over my head and pulling him into a sitting position forcibly.   
  
He's still trapped underneath me, hot and cold and wet and hard. Now we're face to face, inches apart, bodies pressed together. He pulls my arms down and back so that his arms are around my waist and mine are crossed behind my back, letting go of my hands in favor of holding my wrists there, everything is throbbing.   
  
I watch as his lips form a sneer, daring me to find a way to hurt him now. We're at an impasse, he has my arms trapped and I have his legs trapped but we're running low on extremities with which to hurt one another. Slowly for once, I lean forward, closing that inch between us, and catch one of his smiling lips in my own.   
  
There's a slight gasp as I bite down on his lip and I can't tell whether it came from him or me or both of us. Then he's crushing me to him tighter, closer, leather sliding against blood-coated leather. Lips against one another our tongues quickly join the battle and I moan, pushing my body weight forward so his back hits the pavement and I'm still on top of him. The impact jolts us, but we don't let go.   
  
My legs still intertwined with his I manage to raise my hips before slamming them back down on top of him, let's see the reaction to that. He's wide-eyed but there's still a spark there, something that tells me this isn't over and I haven't won either.   
  
Shifting my wrists into one of his hands he brings the other down, sliding it across my body, down farther, slipping it between us, bodies still pressed up against each other. Our mouths recede when breath becomes past necessary and my lungs feel about to explode. Been there before. As I'm involuntarily gasping to regain my breath he harshly whispers, "Up," and punctuates the word with a thrust of his hips against mine.   
  
No mistaking his meaning, not that I would have. I grind against him once for good measure; laughing inside this time at the impatient look he gives me. Now is not the time for patience, I know that, I'm not stupid, but I am rather trapped. I hiss at him, "Let go," wriggling my hands.   
  
I can see that moment of indecision and I feel it too, if he lets go am I going to punch him or kiss him? He doesn't know and I don't either, so I guess I'll just go with it. Finally, staring in to my eyes he does let go, but simply moves his hand up, grasping my hair and yanking hard, pulling me into a sitting position.   
  
He raises up for a second, pushing my mouth to his while that hand between us slips even lower, and both of mine join his. Zippers are undone, the sound echoing in the night against our little gasps and moans, shifts of leather as it's pushed out of the way. The night is too quiet and the noise is too loud, it hurts my ears.   
  
Pulling my hips up as we have unzipped enough clothing pushed everything out of the way excluding the still dripping blood. It's everywhere, falling from my wounds and his. I raise my hands, pushing hard against his chest, even though my teeth still have his lip. I taste blood as he hits the ground hard and at the same moment I slam my hips back down against him.   
  
This time I do moan, as a new wave of feeling overtakes me, it's a rush of everything. Pain, pleasure, oh God. Blood pours from me, I can feel it, coating me, coating him, a flood of weakness leaving me. And it's everywhere, on me, in me, on him, oh God, he's everywhere, below me, next to me, in me, everywhere.   
  
Fast, hard, harsh, I rise up again and this time when I come down he meets me, pushing upwards with his body, catching me as I fall. And the blood doesn't matter as we build a furious rhythm, it's just us, moving together, dancing together; still trying to best each other. But it's not enough and I want something more.   
  
Reading my thoughts he lunges up and forward, and I let him roll us until I'm on my back, gasping and sputtering beneath him, letting him pound into me as I pound against him. I wrap my legs around his waist, hard, crushing, pain, oh… oh. My hands slip into his jacket, into his shirt, scratching nails against bare skin until I can feel the welts, until there is even more blood coating my already soaked hands.   
  
His one hand wraps into my hair harder, twisting it and pulling me away from him at the same time as his other hand holds me too him and his mouth presses up against my bare skin. We are meeting somewhere in the middle of the pain and the blood as he bites down and I dig in and somehow all that liquid isn't from just our blood, but there's rain. And it's pounding, pounding, and we're pounding, and I can't tell what's up or down, but he's there.   
  
This time our lips crush together just as hard, eyes never closing, locked together, everywhere and everything is hard and beautiful and his hair is wet and messy and that cut on his forehead is dripping water diluted blood onto my face. But I don't care and he doesn't care and it's so close to being perfect. Everything.   
  
Hard, fast, mean, pain; hurt me, god, hurt me and I'll hurt you, blood everywhere, rain, water, you, me, inside, above, all around, everywhere. And as quickly as it's happened it's over, but I don't know who has won and I don't know where we go from here. Slow motion has hit us as I let him go slowly and he slides out of my grasp. We're wet and we're cold and we're bleeding and hurt and oh god.   
  
Somehow, I think it will happen again. Not like this, not the same, maybe not even hard or painful and I don't even know whether I mean the fights or the sex. Just us. What we are, the way we are. It's all changed in a moment and now as I see the blood that's already being washed away from the cement and the drying blood dripping all over both of us I wonder how badly I've hurt him.   
  
From our still so close spots seated on the cold unforgiving ground, gasping, catching our breath, I reach out a shaky, blood covered hand to him and he takes it. Together we pull ourselves up, until we're standing even though my knees are weak and we're holding onto each other for dear life. I lean my head tenderly against his arm that I had so painfully twisted behind his back only a few minutes, or was that hours, before? "Alec…"   
  
No questions, no apologies, just us. He grins at me, eyes still sparkling dangerously. He pulls me against him, knowing I am still shaky and uncaring about his own wounds and pain. Kissing my blood-streaked forehead tenderly, he chuckles, "It's not over, Maxie." And he's right, it's not, not even close because this is us and me and him and…   
  
Intensity. 


End file.
